Post by Deleted on May 13, 2012 15:19:42 GMT -5
Darkness and ice greeted the young god as Loki arrived upon the frost bitten planet that was Jotunheim. He had been left for dead here. In his next actions he felt no remorse, no guilt for the crimes he was about to commit. There would never be a war with this species again. There would never be a Jotun again. After tonight. Loki would be the last of an already dying breed. He would slaughter them all. Paint the white snow and clear Ice a deep red with their blood. There was no one to stop him. No one to tell the vengeful young Aseir no. There was no Thor to stop him. No Odin to arrive and sentence him to a Hel of torment for his Crimes.
The spear Játgeirr was present in his hand. A whit knuckled grip and the light crunch of snow as he walked forward. Loki possessed no fear of this planet or its beings any longer. He had already killed their king and his father by blood. In cold blood, in front of Frigga with another equally as powerful weapon, Gungir. He would not spill any Jotun blood by that spear today. It would be with his own. It was razor sharp, twisted steel, a blue gem in the center that harnessed any source he channeled through it, the Casket, The Tesseract. Though he would not be using any of those today. Loki was determined to use his own power, his own force. This was a personal vendetta.
The first kill came easily, a guardian watcher of the boarders. The Jotun was large, clumsy, far to slow to keep up with the smaller of his kin. Loki struck fast, flipping the blade skyward in a fluid crescent motion. Filleting the guard who let out but only a strangled, gargled cry. The silver of the blade was now dripping red. It took but a moment for the blood to freeze in the chill of the dark world. This was only the start of the murder he was about to commit. As where his brother had once told him he could not kill an entire race. Loki was going to try his hardest to do so today. The first kill had been executed in calm though out precision. That would not last long.
Loki stepped over the body as he continued, the surge of release from the first kill ever fresh. He walked through the chill, the continual fall of snow. Over time he did not even notice how far he had walked, Loki could have just teleported himself into the only cluster of population, but did not. This was something he thought he needed to do of his own strength.
Hours had passed with not a sign of life, he was so far from where he was supposed to be, so far from Midgard.
He did not notice that the palette colors of his skin had changed to what they were by birth. Eyes like a burning coal ember, skin a dark navy color. The marking signifying that he was indeed prince of this realm as well. Though he felt no need for the place. There was no need for mindless beasts. Though he was one. It was a hypocritical thought and action at best. He was destroying those that had once sought to destroy him. For what? Nothing more then his own possible closure. He could not but think as he continued across the ice plains. It must have been the Casket's doing, It was an object that he had connected himself to. The only being upon Asgard that could wield it. Was it not his birth right to then use it? The power of killing winters at his command. Though his skill in magic already granted him such.
Ice was a cruel element. Not but water in solid state, yet it was of the life giving element, in this state it killed. Destroyed to the very core of things. Loki held a natural affinity for manipulating it. Water in all its forms could be deadly. Steam could boil one alive, water to drown, and ice to crush one. Now he was only making good a on promise he had told his brother, the same one that Thor stopped. Even though Loki had frozen pure energy to prevent it. He looked towards the dark skies, hoping that Sif's brother Heimdall was watching him. He wanted the gate keeper to see what he was doing. An soon all of Loki's thoughts become nothing but malice, rage and hate.
The palace of the Giants came into view, First though it was the small village the remaining called home that he would destroy. He would kill them all, The men the women, the children, the elders and the sick or wounded. He did not care any more. This was his vengeance, he was no better a monster then he was made to be. An it seemed there was no end to it. He would never seen an end to all the rage,, the pain. It would never cease. Loki had taken it, claimed it, made it his own and twisted it. Nay, he let it twist him. This was his Hel. Though he thought it a release as he spilled their blood. Coating walls, floors, his own hands until there was nothing left but a sea of blood and bodies. It would be sickening to any one else. Any being that looked upon the planet of blue ice and see red.
Endless red.
It was dripping from his being, as he stood upon the steps of the palace, an entire race slaughtered at his feet, his own kin dead. There was nothing short of a wide eyed look of insanity upon his face, the blood dripping from his hair, into his face, clinging to his armor and clothing. His hands were coated in it. Towards the end, each had attack became more and more senseless. The clean kills became the work of a mad butcher, bodies bearing little semblance to any form of life. The spear stained completely, the blue gem glowing in a purple light from the mix of hues. He could feel the temperature only drop further. Night had come. It had grown dark and silent. No screams echoing in his ears, no battle cries or pleading to him for mercy that never came.
Loki had forced Mothers to watch their children slaughtered. Lovers to see the same. He put down the creatures as well. If not by his own hand then by his magic. He was mentally and physically exhausted from it. it had taken so much out of him. He was tired, blood soaked and slipping towards darker depths of insanity. All that was left now was to return to Midgard to Amora.
The spear Játgeirr was present in his hand. A whit knuckled grip and the light crunch of snow as he walked forward. Loki possessed no fear of this planet or its beings any longer. He had already killed their king and his father by blood. In cold blood, in front of Frigga with another equally as powerful weapon, Gungir. He would not spill any Jotun blood by that spear today. It would be with his own. It was razor sharp, twisted steel, a blue gem in the center that harnessed any source he channeled through it, the Casket, The Tesseract. Though he would not be using any of those today. Loki was determined to use his own power, his own force. This was a personal vendetta.
The first kill came easily, a guardian watcher of the boarders. The Jotun was large, clumsy, far to slow to keep up with the smaller of his kin. Loki struck fast, flipping the blade skyward in a fluid crescent motion. Filleting the guard who let out but only a strangled, gargled cry. The silver of the blade was now dripping red. It took but a moment for the blood to freeze in the chill of the dark world. This was only the start of the murder he was about to commit. As where his brother had once told him he could not kill an entire race. Loki was going to try his hardest to do so today. The first kill had been executed in calm though out precision. That would not last long.
Loki stepped over the body as he continued, the surge of release from the first kill ever fresh. He walked through the chill, the continual fall of snow. Over time he did not even notice how far he had walked, Loki could have just teleported himself into the only cluster of population, but did not. This was something he thought he needed to do of his own strength.
Hours had passed with not a sign of life, he was so far from where he was supposed to be, so far from Midgard.
He did not notice that the palette colors of his skin had changed to what they were by birth. Eyes like a burning coal ember, skin a dark navy color. The marking signifying that he was indeed prince of this realm as well. Though he felt no need for the place. There was no need for mindless beasts. Though he was one. It was a hypocritical thought and action at best. He was destroying those that had once sought to destroy him. For what? Nothing more then his own possible closure. He could not but think as he continued across the ice plains. It must have been the Casket's doing, It was an object that he had connected himself to. The only being upon Asgard that could wield it. Was it not his birth right to then use it? The power of killing winters at his command. Though his skill in magic already granted him such.
Ice was a cruel element. Not but water in solid state, yet it was of the life giving element, in this state it killed. Destroyed to the very core of things. Loki held a natural affinity for manipulating it. Water in all its forms could be deadly. Steam could boil one alive, water to drown, and ice to crush one. Now he was only making good a on promise he had told his brother, the same one that Thor stopped. Even though Loki had frozen pure energy to prevent it. He looked towards the dark skies, hoping that Sif's brother Heimdall was watching him. He wanted the gate keeper to see what he was doing. An soon all of Loki's thoughts become nothing but malice, rage and hate.
The palace of the Giants came into view, First though it was the small village the remaining called home that he would destroy. He would kill them all, The men the women, the children, the elders and the sick or wounded. He did not care any more. This was his vengeance, he was no better a monster then he was made to be. An it seemed there was no end to it. He would never seen an end to all the rage,, the pain. It would never cease. Loki had taken it, claimed it, made it his own and twisted it. Nay, he let it twist him. This was his Hel. Though he thought it a release as he spilled their blood. Coating walls, floors, his own hands until there was nothing left but a sea of blood and bodies. It would be sickening to any one else. Any being that looked upon the planet of blue ice and see red.
Endless red.
It was dripping from his being, as he stood upon the steps of the palace, an entire race slaughtered at his feet, his own kin dead. There was nothing short of a wide eyed look of insanity upon his face, the blood dripping from his hair, into his face, clinging to his armor and clothing. His hands were coated in it. Towards the end, each had attack became more and more senseless. The clean kills became the work of a mad butcher, bodies bearing little semblance to any form of life. The spear stained completely, the blue gem glowing in a purple light from the mix of hues. He could feel the temperature only drop further. Night had come. It had grown dark and silent. No screams echoing in his ears, no battle cries or pleading to him for mercy that never came.
Loki had forced Mothers to watch their children slaughtered. Lovers to see the same. He put down the creatures as well. If not by his own hand then by his magic. He was mentally and physically exhausted from it. it had taken so much out of him. He was tired, blood soaked and slipping towards darker depths of insanity. All that was left now was to return to Midgard to Amora.